


Plus One

by why_me_why_not



Category: Bandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-30
Updated: 2011-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-18 19:50:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/why_me_why_not/pseuds/why_me_why_not
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bob and Patrick don't understand why their friends keep trying to set them up on dates and invite them to parties with a plus one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plus One

"Why did Lindsey send us each an invitation with a 'plus one' on it?"

Bob looked back to where Patrick was standing just inside the front door, keys in one hand as he sorted through the mail. He shrugged as best he could with the bags he was balancing - and really, how had Patrick conned him into carrying in all the groceries while he got the mail? - and then shook his head. "It's Lindsey, I don't question her."

Patrick muttered something about wives of friends - like Ashlee was any better - and Bob could hear the rustle of paper as he went back to flipping through the envelopes. It sounded like a lot. Then again, it had probably been over a week since either of them had actually _checked_ the mailbox, and they probably wouldn't have done it today if Pete hadn't called to ask if Patrick thought notepads or hand gestures would be better to communicate at the Ways' Silent Dinner Party.

Whatever, Bob was used to the weirdness of his band mates. He figured the "silent" part was a concession towards Gee, who was still being stubborn and difficult about resting his voice. Apparently it wasn't enough that Bob (or Mikey, or Ray, or Frank, depending the night) would sing lullabies to Bandit over the phone at night. Not that Bob minded; he loved Bandit, and he knew not being able to sing to her was probably the worst part of the whole situation with Gerard's voice.

On the other hand, a night with Pete Wentz where he couldn't talk? That was pretty priceless. No talk of his dozen baby bands that Bob couldn't keep straight even if he wanted to. No trying to talk Bob (or anyone else in his band, or their wives) into some ridiculous scheme. No jokes about Patrick being a fair maiden waiting to find his princess (yeah, Bob didn't get Pete-logic either).

Yeah, maybe the party wouldn't be so bad.

Bob didn't know where Patrick had disappeared to, but by the time the groceries were put away, he was nowhere to be found and Bob's stomach was grumbling. He pulled out his phone to call Lindsey as he was throwing together a sandwich. Or two. Patrick was probably hungry too.

"So, what time is this shindig at Casa de Way?" he asked when Lindsey answered.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Lindsey admonished, sounding a bit distracted. "And you need to be here at six."

Which really meant 'anytime between five and eight.'

Bob swallowed down his bite of sandwich before answering, "Okay, we'll be there."

"And you're bringing someone, right?"

"Yeah..." Bob drug out the word, a little confused. Why would he _not_ bring _someone_? He picked up the second sandwich and set off in search of that someone.

"Oh, good!" Lindsey's smile was obvious through the phone connection. "And your date, is she allergic to anything, or anything I need to know foodwise?"

Now Bob was really confused. "She? Uh, Patrick..."

Lindsey sighed. "Bob, you can't just keep bringing _Patrick_. I mean, you're both invited, of course, but aren't you _dating_ someone?"

Well, yes, Bob thought they had already established that. "Yes."

"That's settled, then. You and your date, and Patrick and _his_ date, will be here at 6, right?"

Bob started to protest, because really, he didn't think he and Patrick were all that complicated, but Lindsey continued with, "Oh, there's the baby! Gotta go, see you tonight, love you!"

Bob was left standing in the hallway, befuddled, with his phone in one hand and a sandwich in the other.

"That for me?" Patrick asked, poking his head around their bedroom door.

Bob started to hand him the phone but caught himself and passed over the sandwich instead. "Our friends are a little strange."

Patrick laughed. "Tell me about it. Pete just called to see how things went with that preschool teacher I had lunch with last week. I mean, I'm still not sure why he wants me to help him and Ash approve daycares for Bronx, or why he's setting up lunch meetings for me to do it, but he seemed a little disappointed when I told him I hadn't talked to her since."

Bob shook his head. Sometimes, he wondered what it would be like to have _normal_ friends.


End file.
